


The Taming Process

by resonae



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonae/pseuds/resonae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a dark universe, Stark is a noble politician of an aggressor state; he has his own army and makes the deadliest weapons. One day his Commander in Chief Steve Rogers brings him a trophy from the latest battle - an impudent archer. Stark’s definitely going have his time taming his new slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taming Process

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt,
> 
> Don’t you think Tony would make an outstanding bad guy? Let’s say, in some dark universe Stark is a noble politician of an aggressor state, he has his own army and makes the deadliest weapons. One day his Commander in Chief Rogers brings him a trophy from the latest battle - an impudent archer. Stark’s definitely going have his time taming his new slave.

Anthony Edward Stark grinned as his commander-in-chief as he dragged in a loudly struggling man into his penthouse. Commander Rogers threw the man down onto the floor before Anthony, and Anthony’s grin widened.

 

Furious gray eyes shot up to look at him, and Anthony couldn’t help but smirk down at him. “So you’re the little problem child.” He said, standing and tapping the body with his foot. He was certain that if the other man wasn’t gagged, he’d be spitting and cursing. “Take him to my room, Rogers.”

 

Anthony followed, almost gleefully as the stoic commander grabbed the man by the back of the neck and started to force him to walk. The man cursed and fought the entire way, but was no match for Rogers’ superhuman strength. “He won’t be able to hurt you.” Rogers said, tying the man’s ankle to his upper thighs and then roping them to his wrists.

 

Anthony knew – the man was bound completely. His wrists were chafed and bleeding from struggling against the tight handcuffs, and now his legs were bent and bound thigh-to-ankle. “Good job, Commander.” He said, watching his prize.

 

“All the same, he killed hundreds of my men armed with just a bow and a set of arrows. You should be careful.”

 

“Yes, yes. You may take your leave.” Anthony shooed the other away impatiently, and gloated down when he heard the door shut. His prize was breathing hard, but there was no fear in his eyes. Perfect. He took out a switchblade and started slicing away at the clothes. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble for me.” Anthony chuckled, running his blade down the thick jeans. “An arrow into the eye socket of exactly 751 men. Very, very impressive, of course. You drove Commander Rogers up the wall, Clinton Francis Barton.”

 

Anthony chuckled when the other man flinched. “But look at you now.” He slid the cut jeans off and then the shirt, and easily cut through the boxers, leaving the man entirely naked. “You’re just a piece of art.” He ran his hands appreciatively over the quivering muscles in the strong thighs and the hard stomach. “I’ll enjoy ruining you.”

 

He put his hand out, and almost immediately machinery whirred and a syringe was put to his hand. “Let’ see how long you fight this.”

 

\--

 

“Since when do you sleep with your whores?”

 

Anthony blinked his eyes open. “Natasha.”

 

The redhead snorted and jerked her chin toward the bound man again. “Since when do you sleep with your whores, hm?”

 

Anthony chuckled and held his arm out. She tossed a robe his way, and he pulled it on. “He fought the drug until the end. Must have worn me out. Cuff his arms upward and onto the headboard, but make it so that I can turn him however I want. Is there a way you can disable his legs so I can untie his legs but they’ll be useless?”

 

Natasha picked the cuff open easily without the key. Bloodied, torn wrists fell out of them, but Natasha paid no mind as she recuffed the wrists over his head and then started working with chains. “You can use drugs.” Natasha suggested. “That’d be good, actually. Make him think you knocked out his legs. You can just keep drugging him – Bruce can probably make something just to make his legs numb.”

 

Tony grinned as Natasha tested the chain. “Sounds good. Get on it.”

 

“You don’t want me to wipe him down?”

 

“No.” Tony nudged the legs open and smiled at the sight. “I want him to feel the blood and the semen on his legs when he wakes up. Hand me the vibrator before you go, and make sure the legs aren’t working by the time I come back tonight.”

 

Natasha glared at him as if he should be ashamed that she wouldn’t have the job done in an hour.

 

\--

 

When Anthony came back, he was greeted with a glare. The legs had been untied, but by the looks of it he couldn’t use them. Natasha, as always, had gotten the job done. Well, Natasha and Bruce. “Taking care of the rebel troops is so much less fun without you there.” Anthony sighed theatrically, and didn’t miss the quivering of the blue eyes when he mentioned the rebels.

 

Huh. Blue? Anthony tossed off his suit jacket and sat down, gripping Barton’s back of the head. “I swear your eyes were gray yesterday.” He clicked his tongue, and tilted Barton’s head upward. The blue slid to gray, and then to green as Anthony tilted the prisoner’s head this and that. “Ah.” He said, fascinated with the color. “JARVIS, run a scan on his eyes, will you? I want to study it in detail tomorrow.”

 

“ _Yes, sir_.”

 

Barton’s head tried to jerk back, but Anthony held him still as JARVIS intentionally drew out the scanning process. The body trembled minutely, and Anthony raised an eyebrow. The man had shown no fear during capture, rape and even when he had woken up without feeling in his legs, but he was trembling against JARVIS’ machinery.

 

He shook until the machinery left, and Anthony smirked. “It’s the eyes.” He said, grinning as he rubbed under the archer’s eye. He dug his thumb deeply under the eyeball, tracing the groove of the organ beneath the flesh and felt the trembling start up again. “You’re an archer with deadly aim. Of course your eyesight would be the most important for you. You still believe you’re getting out of here, don’t you?” Anthony smirked. “Well, I believe weeds need to be plucked out at the very beginning.”

 

The archer’s eyes widened and started to struggle with his upper body, and Anthony’s grip on his hair tightened. “I would make you blind. But I do like this.” He licked a trail up Barton’s cheek and flicked his tongue out at the eyeball. Barton flinched. “So consider this a warning.”

 

Before Barton could react, Anthony brought his hands up in a flash and Barton let out a scream beneath the gag. Anthony twirled the bloodied knife in his hand as Barton managed to wrench himself away, trying to tug his bound wrists to cover the long slash that went from his left eyebrow down to left cheek, slicing through the left eye. “Fetch Bruce for me, will you, JARVIS?”

 

“ _Yes, sir_.”

 

Anthony watched as the painful writhing dwindled to choked sobs, and he knelt down to grab a fistful of short blonde hair. “Let me tell you this, Barton. You aren’t getting out of here. You’ll warm my bed as a fucktoy until I get bored of you, and then when I do you’ll be given to the soldier to use as a semen dump. I’m sure a lot of them would like seeing _you_ scream under them. You’ve killed a lot of their loved ones, you know. I’m going to do to you whatever I want.”

 

“You’re getting blood all over the sheets, though, and Pepper is not going to like that.” The voice made Anthony turn. He grinned at his friend and shrugged as Bruce stepped forward to examine the whimpering assassin. “He’s not going to be seeing out of this eye, but that’s what you wanted, right?”

 

Anthony leaned back on the headboard. “Yeah. Can you clean up the wound? Give him a few stitches, and make sure nothing gets infected.” Bruce nodded, dabbing away at the wound with the sheet. “What happened to Pepper not liking me getting blood on the sheets?”

 

Bruce looked up at him. “I’ll tell her it was all you.”

 

Anthony snickered and watched Bruce clean the wound. “JARVIS, I need Natasha up here. Tell her I want his gag changed to a ring gag and I need him hooked up to the sex toys tonight.”

 

“Why’d you have me drug his legs again?”

 

“Hey, I didn’t _know_ he was going to be sassy tonight, yeah?” Anthony rolled his eyes. “While you’re at it, look at his other eye.” Bruce gripped the weakly struggling face hard on the chin. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Three colors. Impressive.” He threaded a surgical needle barely even looking at it. “That’s what helped you keep the eye, but don’t get too cocky.” Bruce told the blonde, but before he could say more, Natasha strode in with Thor wheeling in a large web of machinery.

 

Natasha scowled at the blood. “Pepper is going to kill you. Those are 600-count Egyptian cotton.”

 

“Whatever, I’ll get rid of it before she can realize. Did you bring?” Anthony sat up and Natasha showed him the gag. She waited until Bruce had cleaned, stitched and bandaged the shaking man before she gripped his jaws. “Don’t hurt him too much.” Anthony frowned, and Natasha glared at him. Barton was unable to clench his jaws back shut as Natasha fit the ring gag into his lips and the tightened the strap behind his head.

 

Barton barely struggled as Thor pulled him onto the machines, and only let out a choked gasp when the machine whirred to life, roughly pounding into him from underneath. “If the eye starts bleeding a lot, call me immediately, all right?” Bruce said, putting last minute touches on the bandages as if it was natural for him to be treating patients as they were fucked on a machine.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Anthony waved the others down and sidled up to Barton, who started to tremble as he got close. “You’re scared of me.” He grinned. “That’s good.” He grabbed a chin and Barton winced. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Make sure you remember it, Barton. I am your master now. Your life is in my hands.”

 

\--

 

Barton’s struggles became less physical and more mental after that. Even with the lost eye, his gaze still stood strong, and he took advantage of the fact that Anthony was taken with his eye color. Anthony had studied the diagram of that night with Barton’s whimpers and wet squelches as background noise and found nothing that explained the eerie mix of three colors except that it was just genetics.

 

He stroked butterfly touches down Barton’s back as he sat Barton down on his cock. “You’re so tight still. Even after the entire day of getting fucked by that machine.” He smirked and traced his finger around the stretched ring of muscle. Barton managed to glare at him, and Anthony applauded his willpower. Barton could barely move from exhaustion from sexual torture that had lasted inhumane hours, yet he found the energy to glare with the most hatred Anthony had ever seen.

 

Anthony tipped Barton back so that he slammed down on the bed, his bloodied wrists tensing for a moment against the pulled chain. “You’re a challenge, Barton. I like that.” He chuckled.

 

\--

 

But Anthony always had ways to solve challenges. While the solution he’d come to would be temporary and in no way a full solution, he figured it would work.

 

Barton stared at the child that Steve held by the back of his neck. “So, Barton.” Anthony snickered. “You know this kid?” Barton stared. “Of course you do. He’s someone from the slums and you know everyone there, don’t you? The baby sure knows you. Don’t you, Alex?”

 

The child gulped and whimpered, but nodded when Steve’s hand squeezed harder. Barton struggled, his eye wide and searing with hatred. “I have a proposition for you, Barton. I’m going to take off your gag, take off your cuffs and untie your legs. And here’s the thing. You can try to struggle. You can try to kill me. But you realize I have JARVIS, right? He’ll stop you, and then here’s what will happen. I’m going to skin Alex alive. And then I’ll find every other child out there in our prison and have them all boiled alive. I’ve no problem doing that. Are we clear?”

Anthony could see the fury boiling over. There was so much hate radiating from Barton that it _excited_ Anthony. But in the end he bit hard down on the gag and nodded. Anthony waved Natasha over, and she proceeded to uncuff and ungag the archer. Barton kept his stare resolutely on the floor. “If you’re good, _whore_.” Anthony spoke so that the child could hear. “I’ll take care of the kids. I’ll make sure they get all the food and education they need. And for every time you’re bad, I’ll kill a kid. We clear?”

 

Barton gritted his teeth – it was visible now that he had no gag – but nodded. Anthony waved away both Steve and Natasha. “Pepper, you heard what I said, right? Make sure every kid and his mother in the prison camps are taken care of.”

 

“Got it.” Pepper replied, tapping away on her StarkPad. She looked down at Barton, who was shaking out of barely suppressed rage. “Should I call for Bruce on the way?”

 

“JARVIS will be on it. JARVIS?”

 

“ _Yes, sir. Doctor Banner is on his way up_.”

 

Pepper nodded as she made her way out and smiled briefly at Bruce as he walked in. Bruce raised an eyebrow at Barton’s lack of bonds, but knelt. “Man, these are roughed up pretty badly.” Bruce clicked his tongue. “You’re not going to be using your hands for a while.”

 

Barton kept his gaze straight down onto the floor as Bruce treated his wounds and followed Anthony quietly back onto the room. Anthony grinned and sat, motioning Barton over. Barton obeyed quietly, kneeling down between Anthony’s thighs. “Go on, you know what I want.” Anthony smirked, and Barton’s hands trembled as he unzipped Anthony’s pants and coaxed out the still-soft organ.

 

Barton hesitated for a fraction of a moment before he took the head into his mouth, coaxing it alive with his hands and lips. Anthony grinned down at the sight of the lead rebel, kneeling between his legs and giving him a blowjob. He ran his hand through his hair and gripped the short locks, moving the head up and down in his own pace.

 

Barton stayed quiet and pliant for the next few weeks. Anthony grinned as Barton bit his lip and his throat trembled as he tried to keep silent during sex – his last struggle, Anthony thought, pleased that his toy wasn’t boring him yet. He pulled out after finishing inside, watching the white liquid slide out after a moment. It was a strangely addicting sight. He leaned back with a glass of whiskey as Barton wordlessly curled up. “There’s an archery battle.”

 

The words sent a tense ripple down the muscular back. “I proposed it, with the other lords of the country.” Anthony snickered, sipping on his cup of whiskey. Barton turned, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “In a month. You’ll learn to shoot with one eye, won’t you?”

 

Barton stared. His left eye had patched, but not healed – one eye a dull blank brown from where the blood had clotted, but the other eye was still bright. “Give me a bow.” Barton spoke, and it was the first words Anthony had heard since Barton had come into the mansion. The voice was soft, low, sounded like it could be full of mischievousness and playfulness but it was instead full of scars and pain.

 

“If I give you a bow, how do I know you won’t shoot me?”

 

Barton’s gaze was hard. “Because I hold lives of children in high regard.” The _unlike you_ was unsaid but Anthony heard it, loud and clear.

 

\--

 

Anthony didn’t want to admit it, but he was impressed. When Rogers had told him that Barton had shot an arrow through every eyeball without a visor, he hadn’t believed it – but he did now. An arrow was lodged into every bull’s eye, and then Barton had gone on to shoot at the lines between the colors. He raised an eyebrow when Barton looked back at him, a smirk slipping onto his lips.

 

God.

 

It was attractive.

 

Barton was fully confident with a bow in his hand. In _his element_ , though Anthony hated using clichés. Even the smirk – that was _Clinton Francis Barton_. Not the whore Anthony kept around to fuck and to strap to fuck machines to watch him writhe and pant in pain, but the assassin whose daily kill count went over 50. Someone who knew what he was doing and was proud of it.

 

The smirk was gone almost immediately and Barton let it drop, turning hastily back to the arrows. He shot a few more straight on target, and Anthony left him be, slipping out of the range he’d created.

 

\--

 

Barton’s routine was simple – fuck at night, train during the day. Anthony watched the toned muscles ripple under him as they strained at night, and then watched them work during the day. Barton made the shooting utterly effortless, like it was natural for him to be hitting a bull’s eye every time he let go of the bowstring.

 

“If I win this,” Barton said, one day as Anthony pushed a vibrator inside him. “I want you to call off the attacks for a week.”

 

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “And why should I do that?”

 

Barton’s fist clenched. “Because it’s _Christmas_. Little children want their fathers home.”

 

Anthony made no response for a while, and then smiled. “Fine. If you manage to win this under _my conditions_ , I’ll call off the attacks for Christmas and New Year.”

 

\--

 

Under his conditions were with 4 quarts of enema solution, plugged with a vibrator. Anthony watched the archer tremble with exertion, but every arrow flew true to mark and slammed into bull’s eye. “It’s impressive.” Rogers muttered grudgingly.

 

It was more than impressive, especially because Barton proceeded straight to the bathroom after he slapped the gold medal into Anthony’s palm. “I don’t remember giving you permission to empty yourself.” Anthony said, amused more than anything else as he entered the bathroom and found Barton already in the shower.

 

Barton glanced sideways at him. “The condition was to hold it for the competition. It’s over.” He ran water down his thighs, shuddering slightly. Anthony noticed the vibrator was on the sink. Barton noticed and looked back to the shower.

 

“You’re getting sassy.” Anthony chuckled, taking the vibrator off the counter. “Brace your hands on the wall and bend over. Spread your legs.”

 

Barton didn’t hesitate – his face shuttered, closing of all the smirk and pride that had been there just moment ago as he obeyed. Anthony didn’t bother with lubrication or preparation – the vibrator slid inside easily into the place it had occupied for hours. “Fifty lashes of the whip for your sass.” Anthony said, turning the vibrator onto full.

 

\--

 

Barton’s voice trembled as he counted thirty-three. Blood flowed from where the barbs had dug into and torn out flesh. “Pause.” Anthony called out, and Thor halted in his whipping. Anthony stepped forward and pressed his hand to the mangled back, but Barton didn’t let out a sound. “If you make noise, I’ll stop. Otherwise, we’re going up to 100.”

 

Barton’s good eye looked up at him, fierce and angry for a moment before ducking back downward. Anthony scowled, stepped back and nodded to Thor, who brought the barbed whip down again and again as Barton counted.

 

“Keep going.” Anthony commanded once Thor hit fifty. Thor nodded, only stopping to hear Barton count in breathless gasps.

 

After a while, Thor paused. “He’s fainted.” Anthony walked over to grab the back of Barton’s hair and yank his head up. True enough, his lips were almost blue and his eyes were shut.

 

Anthony nodded. “Right, dismissed. Go wash up and bring Bruce up here.” Thor left with a nod and Anthony unhooked the cuffs from the ceiling. Barton crumbled to the floor in a bloody heap, his entire backside tattered. Anthony waited until Bruce showed up wheeling a cart of medical supplies in. “Hey.” He said, waving Bruce over.

 

Bruce rolled his eyes but crouched to examine the tattered back. “Are you planning to kill him?” He said, dabbing away at the blood with a sterilized cloth. Anthony did not answer, but Bruce didn’t seem to be expecting one. He took time cleaning and dressing the wounds. “If you’re going to have sex, don’t do it on his back. You’ll reopen all his wounds.”

 

“I’m going to kill them.” Anthony said, carding his hands through Barton’s hair. “I’ll take him to the camp grounds and set it on fire.”

 

Bruce said nothing for a while, but looked up. “What are you doing, Anthony?” He sighed. “Do you want to break him? Is that it?”

 

Anthony looked down at the unconscious archer. “Yeah.” He said, smiling eerily. “I think so.”

 

\--

 

Anthony took Barton to the overseeing tower of the camp grounds, keeping him kneeling on the floor. He was naked, but seemed not to care that that the guards could see his naked body and the end string of large anal beads hanging out of him. “I’ve a little display to show you.” Anthony smirked and Thor moved a little closer. “Start the fires.”

 

Barton’s head whipped up at that, but before he could do any more, Thor was upon him, pressing him down with a large hand. Fires started blazing everywhere, accompanied by screaming of children and women. “Stop it!” Barton cried, trying to rise. “Stop! Stop! I’ll do anything. Stop it!”

Anthony watched wordlessly, smirking down at the scene below him. Barton howled in despair, struggling against Thor’s superhuman strength. His struggling had reopened his wounds and Anthony could see red blossoming beneath the white bandages. “Hold him tighter, Thor. I don’t want his wounds reopening. And gag him.”

 

In response, Thor held him down and shoved a ball of cloth between the archer’s lips. Thick tears started dripping from one eye, and Barton cried out in anguish when flames engulfed the prison grounds and the screams of terror ended. Anthony knelt down and took his chin to sharply bring his face up. Barton glared at him furiously, and his one eye told Anthony so much. “Gag him, tie him up and give him to the prisoners. I’m sure they’ll have fun with him.”

 

\--

 

“How is he?” Anthony asked absently when Natasha walked in.

 

She shrugged. “Dying.” When Anthony looked up, she met his gaze. “You expected as much, right? You sent someone who was pretty badly injured down into a prison to be a whore. His wounds are infected and he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s dying. He won’t last the week.”

 

Anthony spun the hammer in his hand. “Do you really think so?” When Natasha stared him down, he put the hammer down. “Have Thor bring him back up, and then get Bruce to clean him up.”

 

Natasha left with a huff. A few hours later, Thor walked in carrying a bandaged bundle in his arms, Bruce following close behind. Anthony watched as Bruce set up the IV line and the oxygen mask. “Is he badly off?” Anthony said, coming up near the bed.

 

Barton’s face was paper-white, with dark sunken cheeks and blue lips. Anthony could see bruises on his cheek and chin where he’d been gripped and forced to give oral sex. “They broke a lot of bones beating him.” Bruce answered. “Tore his rectal walls. Gave him pretty bad infections everywhere.” Bruce reached over to adjust the IV tube. “He’s going to be out for a while.” He looked up at Tony over his glasses. “Don’t get a temper tantrum while he’s healing, or you’re really going to lose him this time.”

 

“I don’t _do_ temper tantrums.” Anthony protested, crossing his arms across his chest. Thor snorted and Bruce raised an eyebrow in response. “They’re not temper tantrums!”

 

Bruce only rolled his eyes and turned back to his chart. “Whatever you want to name them, don’t have them. If you decide to send him down there again, we’ll lose him for sure this time. I _know_ you want to keep him, so stop it already.”

 

\--

 

Barton didn’t open his eyes until a week later, and then he was too weak to do anything but stare blankly into space. Anthony tapped his finger onto the oxygen mask, thankful Bruce had thought ahead with the oxygen tube crammed into his lips to keep him from biting his tongue. “I guess you were hoping you’d die down there.”

 

Barton didn’t look at him. Anthony brushed his hand down the bandages down his arm. “I want to keep you.” He said lightly. “They call you Hawkeye, I found out.” Anthony chuckled. “For your aim, I suppose. I’d like to clip those wings of yours and keep you here.”

 

There was no response. Barton stared straight ahead even when Anthony stroked his bruised cheek, brushing against the finger-shaped bruises that told him everything.

 

\--

 

“I want all the prisoners castrated.”

 

Pepper didn’t even look surprised at the demand. “You know _you’re_ the one who sent him down there, right?” She tapped away on her StarkPad nonetheless. “In any case, Steve has been scheduling it for a while.” She raised a ginger eyebrow at him. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with him yet?”

 

Anthony said nothing for a while, and then leaned back in his chair. “I want to clip his wings.” He smiled slowly. “Yeah. I want to clip his wings. I’ll have a furious hawk who has no choice but to stay here.”


End file.
